Stay Alive
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Dean doesn't understand why Ted doesn't want to fight until Ted makes his last stand.


_Care of Magical Creatures: Write about a pacifist having to defend someone or something._

 _Insane House Competition: Dean Thomas_

 _365 Prompts Challenge: protecting someone_

 _Character Appreciation: Muggleborn_

 _Word Count: 1341_

* * *

Dean knows he should try to sleep. Life on the run is miserable, and he's as good as dead if he encounters a group of Snatchers while exhausted. Still, though his eyes are heavy, they refuse to close.

He sits up with a groan, shivering as the cold winter wind blows against his exposed cheek. Nearby, Griphook sleeps without a care in the world. Dean almost envies the goblin.

Still shivering, he makes his way over to the small fire where Ted is keeping first watch.

"Thought you were supposed to be sleeping," the older wizard says.

Dean shrugs, inching closer to the warmth of the flames. If the world hadn't gone to hell, he would be in his dormitory right now, buried under a mountain of warm, thick blankets. The thought makes him scowl. It isn't fair, and he wants to make things right.

"Doesn't it bother you?" Dean asks.

Ted studies him for a moment. The fire casts shadows on his kind, lined face. "Doesn't what bother me?"

"That we're on the run!"

The other man chuckles, pushing a hand through his thin, greying hair. "Not exactly my idea of a good holiday."

Dean wants to roll his eyes but catches himself. His mother would ground him for a month for such a disrespectful gesture, and even if she isn't here to lecture him, he still thinks better of it. It's hard sometimes. Ted is such a Hufflepuff. Even as the world falls apart around them and death continues to breathe down their necks, the older man manages to keep a smile on his face and a good sense of humor about him.

"That's not what I mean," Dean mutters, casting his dark eyes up toward the sky and watching the twinkling stars overhead. "We should be fighting."

"And what good will that do?"

Dean's attention quickly shifts. He stares at his companion, eyes wide and jaw slack with disbelief. It seems strange that he could ask that when his own daughter is on the front lines, actively trying to fight the dark forces of the world. "It makes a difference."

Ted heaves a deep sigh before stoking the fire. For several moments, there is only silence between them. Dean shifts uncomfortably. Ted is a friendly bloke, always so jovial and open. His silence is strangely chilling; it doesn't fit him at all.

"There are several ways to make a difference," Ted says at last, breaking the tense silence. "Sometimes the biggest difference you can make is to just stay alive."

"But what about when it isn't enough?"

Ted can preach non violence all he wants. Dean doesn't believe a word of it. They've had plenty of close calls, and he's seen the older wizard hold his own in a duel. He's seen the way the man's bright eyes can burn with fiery rage as he fights.

"Fighting is necessary," Ted answers. "The trick is knowing when what you're protecting is worth sacrificing your life for."

It doesn't make much sense to Dean. Since he'd first taken off, all he could think about was fighting. Each time they had encountered a group of Snatchers, he had taken a sick thrill in the battle. How can Ted— a man with a wife and daughter praying for his return— not think that every fight is worth it?

Maybe he'll never understand the other man. Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs seem to have different approaches to the war. He tries to see things from Ted's perspective, but his anger clouds his judgment, and he can only see red.

"You really should get some sleep, kid," Ted says gently, drawing the seventeen year old out of his thoughts.

Reluctantly, Dean rises to his feet, wrapping his arms around his wiry frame and hunching against the cold wind. "Goodnight, Ted."

"Sleep well, Dean."

…

Days pass without incident. Slowly, Dean lets his defenses down and begins to relax. If the days remain this peaceful, maybe he can convince himself that he's just on a camping trip.

"I'm starving," Dean says.

"Perhaps this would be a good time to search for food," Griphook agrees, and his tone implies that he will leave the hunting and gathering to the wizards.

Dean and Ted exchange glances. There are days where Dean wants to leave the goblin behind, but Ted insists that it would be cruel. Ted may be right, but that doesn't mean Dean is happy about it.

Before Dean can voice his annoyance, Ted gives him a light nudge. "I think there's a stream up ahead," he tells the younger man. "Should be some fish."

Dean follows along, hoping Griphook will at least be nice enough to start a fire for them.

As they venture farther from their campsite, Dean's mood softens. All this time running has really done a number on him. When this is all over, maybe he'll finally try out that meditation nonsense that his mother swears by.

As they near the stream, Dean moves ahead, excited. They haven't had fish in at least a week, and his stomach growls at that memory. It will certainly be better than the few scraps of berries and herbs they've managed to forage over the past few days.

"Dean!" Ted's voice is sharper than Dean has ever heard it, and he realizes, far too late, that it's in warning.

He stops abruptly, just as a lone Snatcher comes into view. Dean takes a step back, his hand trembling as he grips his wand. A cocky grin tugs at his lips. One Snatcher is nothing; he can easily take him.

Before Dean can fire off a hex, Ted appears at his side. "Run, Dean."

"I can take him."

"They're never alone," the older man reminds him.

Two more appear suddenly, flanking the first. Three against two. These aren't the best odds, but Dean doesn't back down.

"Two little Mudbloods," the one at the front sneers, stepping close. "There's a pretty price on your head, Tonks."

Ted steps forward, shielding Dean with his body. "Take me; leave the boy."

"How sweet. Feeling a bit fatherly, are you?" the Snatcher laughs. "He may not fetch as much, but gold is gold, I'm afraid."

"Dean." Ted's voice drops to a whisper that's barely audible. Dean has to really strain to listen. "I'll hold them off. Take Griphook and run."

"I'm not leaving you."

Ted sighs. "You've become like a son to me, and I'll be damned if I don't stand up for my family."

His words seem to wrap around Dean, and the Gryffindor quickly blinks back tears. He never knew his father, but he hopes he had been as good a man as Ted Tonks.

"Go!"

Dean hesitates but manages to force his legs to move just as a red streak of light barely misses his cheek. Behind him, he can hear the chaos as curses and spells are exchanged. He doesn't know how Ted is still alive through it, but the Hufflepuff's voice comes through loud and clear. A smile pulls at Dean's lips. If anyone can make it out of this, it's Ted Tonks.

Once he's a safe enough distance away, Dean pauses and turns. He's greeted by a beam of green light striking his beloved friend. Within seconds, Ted collapses to the ground in a pitiful heap.

Dean doesn't want to move. All he can think of is charging after the Snatchers and avenging his fallen friend. The laughter and cheers that drift through the air cause his blood to boil despite the winter chill.

But he can't do it. Dean hadn't understood Ted's words that night at the campfire, but he does now. Ted had taken his stand to protect Dean. He's sacrificed his life to give Dean a chance to make it through this nightmare, and Dean has to honor that by staying alive.

Forcing back his anger, the young wizard quickens his pace. He will live through this, and he will keep Griphook safe.

"For Ted," he murmurs, blinking away the tears in his eyes.


End file.
